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There Ain't No Cure



Every week it's more of the same. I tell myself that I will write something cheerful and light, then, without fail, the vast and seething continent on whose western edge we all live churns up some fresh, manmade horrors to bloody up the news cycle again. A mass shooting at a family-filled holiday parade, another undemocratic erosion of civil rights, or a brand-new app that lets people rent out the car they live in while they are at one of their four low-paying, gig economy jobs. Without fail, the American atrocity machine keeps rolling out new models on its only fully functioning factory production line. It's tiresome. At least I don't hear as much from the gormless buttheads who used to take issue with my political observations in a weekly paper whose literal motto is the "North Coast Journal of Politics, People and Art." I think even they understand the current score. We're living in Shitsville, people.

I don't even know how bands can afford to tour anymore, to be honest. Everyone I talk to waxes rhapsodic about the days when they were able break even on the road, before the cost of everything rose to "all of your arms and legs." Remember that phony rumor (likely started in white supremacist online spaces) that our Sheriff Honsal passed on about Antifa buses coming to town for the George Floyd protests? That almost seems quaint now, for who could believe that anyone could afford to even gas up a bus, let alone a crew of young leftists? Still, it is funny when our county makes the national news for the dumbest possible reason, so I have to hand it to Billy for that. Hats off on your recent unopposed election victory.

Still, we have an obligation to carry on, blues or not, and live the best version of our lives that is possible in the current conditions. It beats the alternative and outliving the malaise should be a project that unites the people. If nothing else, the Humboldt summer is too charming to ignore. Go get a piece of it. Thursday

Summer is here, which means that the Eureka Summer Concert Series is back in business. If you'd like to participate in the series in the coveted position of "crowd member," alls ya gotta do is stroll over to Madaket Plaza at 6 p.m. and pick a spot from which to gander. This week's talent is the reggae act Rising Signs. The price, as all public things should be, is free.


Have you ever wanted to be a part of a live studio audience laugh track? To have your momentary peals of mirth captured forever in the hard amber of digital recording software? Well, tonight (and tomorrow night) is your chance, as comedian Paul Danke kicks off his two-night residency at Savage Henry Comedy Club, where he's recording his next comedy album. If you'd like to be in the eternal spectral chorus of bon vivants, roll through by 9 p.m. with $20 in hand.


I don't usually write much about our local festivals because I figure the general Setlist reader, savvy as you are, has already heard enough about the bigger events. That said, I am also often pulled by the desire to report on happenings on the frontier borders of our big county. Today I am going to steer you out east toward Willow Creek, where Bigfoot Daze is once more up and running in that town with the State Route 299 main drag. Talking Heads cover act Naïve Melodies and reggae players Woven Roots will supply the grooves at Veterans Park after the 10 a.m. parade. If you get tired of the scene, the Trinity is still quite inviting.


Amber Soul, the pop act helmed by the Penner Sisters, is playing a free one at Septentrio Winery at 6 p.m. You may recall the Penners as a talented musical family that has been churning out music and concerts locally for some time now, under various iterations and avatars. This group is less jazz-focused than Sweet and Lovely, and brighter and cheerier than Elisa Penner's solo work. It should be a good time — come by.

Over in Blue Lake at Dell'Arte's Carlo Theatre, it's the last evening of the troupe's Red Light Cabaret revue at 8 p.m. ($25). I expect top-notch burlesque antics will be on the menu.


Oh, look, another quiet summer night in the northern chunk of the 707. I suggest reading something to take your mind away from our own national bungee jump between torpor and violent zealotry. How about something from the bibliography of Barry Crump? New Zealand's own outdoorsman turned comic novelist extraordinaire might have just the right goods to chase off the summertime blues.


Time to wake up out of the early week slumber and kick out the jams. Meatbodies is a powerful and exciting garage rock band from Southern California that has been ripping the governor off the audience's engine for the last decade. Tonight the 'bodies hook up with the more psychedelic Spoon Bender from Portland to vibrate the air in the Miniplex at 7:30 p.m. ($18, 15 advance). I'm gonna go ahead and call this one my show of the week; don't miss it.


Some institutions need no mention, yet still require the occasional appreciation. The Crab Grass Band has been entertaining baseball fans for four decades with its rotating cast of top-shelf stompers and blowers, churning out the fight songs and the hits. Come on down to the Humboldt Crabs' park tonight at 7 p.m. to see what I mean. Oh, and there's also a game going on, I think. The Redding Tigers are serving themselves up for a showdown with our beloved crustacean champs ($10, $4 kids).

Collin Yeo (he/him) would like to send a shout out to everyone who has managed to find a way to monetize the decline. He is in awe of your shameless embrace of evil. He lives in Arcata.

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